


Momentary Distraction

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, mentions of self-harm and suicide, really just depressing as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was one of those days, when Harry just felt so deliciously self-destructive.</p><p>Or the one where Louis might have accidentally saved Harry's life</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentary Distraction

It was one of those days, when Harry just felt so deliciously self-destructive. He sat alone in his apartment, texting Niall, who was camped out in his bathroom in Mullingar, bent over the toilet with food poisoning. Louis was busy with another of his crusades, or maybe he was just home with the family; Harry couldn't remember. Liam had taken Danielle away for the weekend and Zayn was pining over his continental separation from Perrie. Everyone was busy or oblivious and Harry was sick with a cold so it was easy to write off his gloomy behavior. It was easy to make excuses to be alone, to sleep too much and not answer phone calls. It was all too easy.

Sometimes he just slipped into it. His mum leaned on him and he missed her sorely. He worried about the lads and he spent too much time trying to please everyone else and biting his tongue and normally it was all ok, it all worked out in the end. Not this time. Not today. Harry has his iPod set to his most tragic music; Ed's depressing stuff and slow Coldplay and the Civil Wars, an American band that was nothing but heartbreakingly beautiful. 

Visiting Nick would be a good idea. Calling Louis, just to say, 'hey, I'm not okay right now', would be a good idea. Instead, Harry's made friends with a fifth of whiskey and idly goes through the knife drawer in his kitchen, the thoughtful look of consideration on his face enough to cause concern, were there anyone present to witness it. Harry glances down at his naked body and thinks that maybe he could starve himself into oblivion. Just never eat again and die alone on his bed, nothing but skin and bones. Or chug drain cleaner. That works too, right? An abstract part of his brain tells him he should be alarmed by these thoughts but he feels nothing now, so completely blank and empty. He wanders through his flat, as if he could found his missing emotions, like they'd accidentally slipped in the crack between his bookshelf and the telly. Like he'd just misplaced them.

His phone was ringing, suddenly. It caught him off-guard, and in his surprise, he answered. It was Louis.

"Hazza, I have some ideas for things. I'm coming over. You should get dinner; I'm feeling like pasta, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay." Harry's moribund specter was momentarily distracted, overwhelm by the need for trousers and tomato sauce and table settings and once again, he has narrowly avoided destruction. When Louis turns up at his door and pulls him into a tight, fleeting hugs, he cannot smell the sad, that sweet, rotting scent. Louis doesn't know what he did, but that's okay, because he doesn't have to know in order to save Harry. He just has to  _be_.


End file.
